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.-IlV anb jJOlUn the Coast

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IlV anb jJOlUn the Coast [Selected]. WITH BROKEN TrISG. At stmrise, Up on high In the blue sky, From the green earth. I heard the lark sing On fluttering wing Its song of morning's birth. At sunset, Down below, In the rich glow, That work of God With drooping, broken wing— A dumb and shattered thing— Lav on the brown sod. The lark can only sing In spring, and on the wing. Mr LOSS. Slowly creeps down the silent night To close the day that brought my grief. I gladly lose the garish light And seek for rest however brief. My loss I knew that I must hide In masks that frown or masks that smile. Through weary days grief will abide Nor can fresh jpys my heart beguile. The darkening night in stillness mute Shall wrap me in its silent folds, Till grief grows calm and lew acute Andi tear-washed "glit new truth beholds. I grieve, and grieve, and grieve and grieve For all my loss none can recall, Nor time nor love can e'er retrieve The woe that did my life befall. Creep slowly down, 0, starless night, And hide me in thy pathless deeps, Till he who was my soul's delight Calls me to where he waiting sleeps. OBSERVATIONS. I refuse to measure the wisdom of the Unknown by my short and shallow ex- y perience. All human love is not the same. There is love that glows and sparkles in life's sunshine; there is love that rises giants like to save and bless in storm and stress. The power of the tree to resist storms does not lie in its visible branches, but in its invisible- roots and in the strong earth to which they cling. NegJjeerted and forgotten graves tell, not of dead loveG but of healing, may be with scaas. yet still of healing. There is ample room for the deepest tragedy and bliss of life in its common experiences. The "tise neither laboriously seek to avoid what life offers nor strenuously seek what it withholds, but make the best of its daily gifts. No human being has a right to claim any service from another for which he himself is not willing to render an equivalent. The easiest .and surest way to study a people is to find out what sort of God they worship, for they are sure to have fashioned their God after their own like- ness. Thou must still the clamours and diseord of thine own soul before thou canst hear the pleadings and harmonies pf the world-spirit; Why vex our souls about the measure- less ruture, seeing that we have emerged safely out of the measureless past with- out conscious effort of our own. Wisdom counts not so much in doing what is wijse as in not doing that which is foolish. The human parasite often makes the tnistake of thinking that he is the superior of the creatures he lives upon. If you could say something that nobody else was thinking about you would be almost if rot altogether unintelligible. A SUDDEN GLORY PLA YED ABOUT YOFR FACE. In deftly chosen words which poets use, I tried, my darling, to express my love; But all love's language had been marred by lust. Or dragged by greed of gain to shameful- ness, Until its finer meanings had been lost. Thus all my love for you remained untold Until niy heart with very dumbness ached Lest you and I should never understand. f One day it happed I found a poet's song Most highly prized by me was prized by r you. His gentle words had meanings manifold, Which, linked together, gave each other force. You said you felt all that the poet said, And asked me if I also knew his song, And when I said it over to you, sweet, A sudden glory played about your face- The full expression of the love I felt But cpuld not utter in my own poor words. And ever since that day each seems to know In deepest silence what the other thinks. QUIET JOYS. My days are full of pensive joys, Of peaceful, gentle musing, Of blisis that neither sates nor cl&ys In philosophic using. I saunter down life's quiet ways ( And note its sweet adornings; I listen to the wild birds' lays On dewy summer mornings. I see the swelling buds in spring, The waving qorn in summer; I watch the days fresh glories bring And smile at each new comer. The glowing autumn richly dressed In red and brown and yellow, May lack the springtime's merry zest, But 0, its gifts are mellow. And while the earth in winter sleeps And gusty winds are blowing, My heart within me throbs and leaps That life's so full and glowing. The Coast. J.G'.

ABERYSTWYTH

CARDIGANSHIRE BATTERY AT SEA

.Comforts for Fighters

PONTERWYD.

RHYDYPENNAU.

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